


Smoliin

by s_ilverblood



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Female Homosexuality, Femslash, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Multi, Orc Culture, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_ilverblood/pseuds/s_ilverblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of romantic one-shots set in Skyrim and following various characters, both OC and canon. Will eventually include fxm, mxm, and fxf pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The White Wolf

**Pairing: Male OC Orc/Female OC Nord**

**I just want to mention that the amazing author Zoop (zoop526 on AO3) inspired me to write this story! Zoop has instilled in me a newfound love for orcs, via their wonderful writing. I would definitely recommend you check out their stories. Epic stuff. :)**

* * *

**The White Wolf**

* * *

**I.**

She could clearly remember the day he had arrived at Jorrvaskr because of the storm that accompanied him.

The conversation of her fellow Companions had run dry, and so she sat and stared outside. It was pouring rain like she hadn't seen in years. She watched it cascade down the windows in crystalline rivulets, distorting her view of the world beyond.

The wind screeched between the cracks around the door, sounding like the sorrowful ghost of a howling wolf. When it flew open and crashed against the wall, she assumed that a gust had caught the latch. But as she stood to close it again, she saw him standing there, taller than any man she had ever seen, water running down him like he was a waterfall.

His skin was the usual olive-green of the Orsimer, his face broad with a neck like an ox. She caught herself staring at him, with his razor-point tusks and the dark war paint around his eyes running down his cheeks in a steady stream. It dripped from the tip of his knotted black beard and onto the breastplate of his orcish armour.

His opalescent grey-blue eyes watched her, just as she watched him. She found herself wondering what exactly he saw when he looked at her.

"Companion." He greeted with a dip of his head, voice deep and raspy, as if he had inhaled too much smoke from a fire.

"Orsimer." She responded in kind, still unable to look away.

**II.**

"Harbinger," At her voice, the old man looked up and smiled. The warmth did not leave his face as he took in the visitor. "This man is requesting to join the Companions."

"Are you indeed?" Kodlak set the paper he was holding aside, clasping his hands together and resting them on the desk. She caught the scent of crisp parchment and ink as it wafted towards her; that particular scent had always struck her as a comfort.

"Aye."

"What is your name, friend?"

"Talenok."

"Well, Talenok, we haven't had the pleasure of an orsimer in our ranks in living memory." He assessed the orc carefully, and when he didn't receive a response, he carried on. "What has drawn you to us?"

Talenok, who had been unwavering until this point, now looked a little uncomfortable. "I…" He swallowed and seemed to battle some inner constraint before he continued. "It came to me in a dream."

"Dreams with purpose are often sent by the Divines. Pursuing those dreams is a worthy path, in my experience." He smiled fondly, and she was struck - not for the first time - by the Harbinger's kindness.

**III.**

In the practise yard, she stood beneath the canopy that covered the outside dining tables, hugging herself against the chill from the wind.

Talenok readied himself, drawing his dual swords, the orcish blades were oddly shaped in comparison to her own Skyforge steel. Vilkas drew his sword, crouching defensively as they circled each other.

It was the orc who moved first, spinning in the rain so fluidly that she swore he was made of liquid metal. Vilkas was unprepared for the move, barely managing to block the hit and stay on his feet. He slid back a few paces, boots unable to grip the wet stones beneath him.

They spun away from each other, reforming their original stances. This time it was the Nord who moved first, catching Talenok across his thigh and drawing a bloody line. The maneuver cost him his ability to block, however, and the orsimer was able to cross his blades across Vilkas' throat, ending the battle as quickly as it had begun.

She had never seen Vilkas bettered in battle, not by anyone but Skjor or Farkas. She could see the frustration in her Sheild-Brother and worried for a moment he would strike out at Talenok again.

When he stepped back and sheathed his sword, she let out a breath she wasn't aware had been locked in her chest. Vilkas bowed his head in acceptance.

"I will tell Kodlak you fought well."

"You have my thanks."

"I do not want it." Vilkas replied evenly, brushing past her without sparing her a glance. Once the door closed behind him, she tentatively smiled at the orsimer.

"Welcome." Was all she could think to say. She turned back to Jorrvaskr. "Come, you are soaked through."

"To the bone." He grunted in agreement and followed her inside.

**IV.**

Despite being accepted by Kodlak, Talenok was still treated as an outcast among the Companions. She invited him to join them as often as she could, but he seemed content to sit by himself, staring into the fire.

There was a calm sadness about him that hurt her heart when she looked at him. She saw the way he shied away from others as if he were afraid to frighten them; the way he would often wear a hood to hide his features, even when inside.

She wished that he could see himself as she saw him, as there was not an ill thought towards him that she could conjure.

Three weeks after Talenok was delivered to them by the storm, she decided it was time she tried to break through his shell - or at least leave a dent. She found him alone one night in the main hall, in his usual chair before the fire.

She was stumbling home late from The Bannered Mare, and perhaps her boldness was fueled by mead, but also by her curiosity.

"Do you mind?" She gestured to the chair beside him and he nodded his silent assent. She had taken two bottles of mead from a nearby table and she passed him one. He took it after a moment of hesitation, his eyes barely leaving the fire.

She slid into the chair and pulled her boots off, folding her legs beneath her. She took a long pull from the bottle before she turned her gaze towards him. She detected his scent from where she sat, like sage and clean dirt. It was strong, but not unpleasant. His hair was brushed smooth and shone in the firelight. He seemed to take great pride in it.

"Has the fire offended you?" At her words, Talenok gave her a quick look of confusion. "Only you can't seem to stop staring it down."

He seemed uncomfortable with her observation, and took his time to respond, opening and closing his mouth several times before the words were spoken.

"It's only offence is beauty." He said it carefully, gently - as if he had put a lot of thought into each word.

"Do you often find beauty offensive?" She tried to say it lightly, but her shock attached to her words as they were born from her throat.

His eyes rose far enough to watch her hands, and she twitched them around the mead bottle self-consciously. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort.

Finally, he shook his head. "I only envy it."

She wasn't sure how to respond, and so she allowed them to fall back into silence.

**V.**

She asked him to spar with her one day, knowing she could learn much from his method. After all, she had never seen anything like it. She vaguely wondered if perhaps his actions were controlled by a Divine - his movement seemed otherworldly to her.

He had been easy on her, until she had reminded him he would not break her. He was a patient teacher, going back over the moves she had used and pointing out weaknesses and improvements and strengths that she had never known herself to have.

When they finished, both dripping sweat and heaving great desperate breaths, they collapsed on the steps each happily accepting a bottle of mead from Tilma before she disappeared inside with her broom.

"You said it was a dream that lead you here?"

"I did."

"What was the dream?"

He reflexively straightened his posture and looked down at his lap, examining his bottle as if it was a great discovery.

It didn't seem that he was going to respond, and she was worried she had pushed too far. "I apologise, I should not pry."

"No!" He said too quickly, looking up at her. She smiled placidly, wiping some sweat from her brow.

"I mean, no. Its fine. You don't pry." Talenok cleared his throat and after a moment of gathering his thoughts, began to speak with his voice like glowing embers.

"I dreamt I was a wolf, being chased by a silver ghost. As I ran, I realised it was with a purpose. Towards some place safe. I was joined by other wolves who called me Brother. They tore down the silver ghost before it could touch me. The wolves were black, save for their leader who was as pure white as fresh snowfall. The white wolf sort of...morphed...into a woman. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen." His eyes darted up to her briefly as he said it, and she wasn't blind to the blush on his cheeks. "She told me to come here, to the Companions." He shrugged. "So here I am."

"I am glad for it." She said decidedly.

"Aye?"

"Aye."

**VI.**

From that day forward, she felt the way he watched her, or rather, didn't watch her; as if his eyes couldn't bare to rest on her for long lest someone see and begin to draw conclusions. At first she thought he must be indifferent or uninterested in her, but his body often gave him away.

Even though his expression was set in steel, colour would rise in his cheeks when she spoke to him, and his body tensed, fingers tightening into fists, or around the flagon of ale he held in his broad hand.

The others had begun to accept him, even joke with him. Now he would sit around the fire with the other Companions at night. He spoke very little, but it was progress regardless.

During the conversations, Talenok would lean slightly in her direction, ear angled as if he was trying to pick up whatever she was saying. Sometimes she spoke a little louder than necessary just so he could hear.

Some nights she would sit back and watch him interact with the others. She would find herself wondering what it would feel like for his fingers to run through her hair, to feel his breath on her neck. They were careless, subconscious thoughts and when she caught herself with them, she cast them away to that dark place in her mind where she hid her black secrets.

Still, whenever their eyes did catch, she felt a white-hot spark roll down her spine, like someone had dropped a burning coal down the back of her tunic.

When they took their first assignment together, she let him take the lead, watching the way his body moved deliberately, each step carefully calculated before it was taken. There was a certain grace to him that was unexpected.

They were in a dungeon, working their way through a band of necromancers. The sight of them made her skin crawl, seeing the dead rise again before them, some with blood still seeping from the wounds that had just felled them.

They were deep into it, both breathing hard after the kills they had made so far. She could feel that they were drawing close to the Master and once he was dealt with, they could leave this wretched place. She was so bent on finishing the job, that she didn't notice the tripwire until the battering log was headed straight for her.

Talenok was there in a flash, lunging and pushing her out of the way. Her back hit the stone wall with a thud, and he stood above her, hands pressed against her shoulders, pinning her in place. She looked up into his eyes, realising their colour matched the sky on the first day they had met.

His breath was shallow in his chest, body inching closer to her each time he inhaled. Shefound she liked having him this close, with his now-familiar scent of sage and soil. She liked the feeling of his fingers digging into her skin, even if it was through the padding of her armour.

They stayed like that for several moments, and she began to wonder if he was going to kiss her. She licked her lips at the thought, and he watched her do it, his mouth falling open slightly.

Talenok pushed away from her and the moment passed.

"Be careful." He said without emotion, turning away and continuing along the passage.

**VII.**

Weeks later, she again found herself alone in the main hall with Talenok. They had all been up, celebrating for no reason as usual. In the small hours, the others had begun to filter away one or two at a time.

As if by unspoken agreement, neither she nor Talenok moved and it wasn't long before it was just them.

When the room fell silent, she tipped up her mug and finished off her spiced wine. She watched him for a moment as he examined the table, smoothing the cracks with his fingers. After the tension in the air between them became thick, she stood and came to sit beside him.

He glanced up at her briefly, and she could tell by the deep flush on his face that he had had as much to drink as her, if not more.

"Tell me of orsimer women." She took a forgotten half-finished bottle from the table and downed it, her eyes not leaving him. He watched her lips on the bottle and he swallowed at the same moment she did, his hands forming fists on top of the table.

"What is there to tell?" His voice was an octave deeper than she was used to it being.

She shrugged carelessly. "Is it your tradition to take a wife?"

Talenok swallowed again, as if he were nervous. "Yes, in a fashion. We take a...mate."

She nodded, understanding. "Have you?"

He looked shocked for a moment, mouth falling open. She found herself staring at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss a man with tusks.

"No, I have not."

There was silence again between them, and she itched to touch him. Instead she clasped her hands in her lap.

"Straja…"

It was the first time she had heard him speak her name, and her heart swelled at the sound. She looked up at him, noticing that his breath had quickened.

"Yes?"

"Could you ever...I mean…" He blushed scarlet and couldn't look at her.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Talenok." When he didn't look at her, she reached out pressing her fingers against his chin and turning his face towards her. She searched his eyes, and what she saw there was fear, but also hope.

"I could." She said decidedly.

"You could?"

She nodded, her fingers lingering for a moment before she withdrew them as slowly as she could manage. "You have only to ask."

He made a strangled noise and looked away. "I have no right. I am not worthy."

"Not  _worthy_?" She blinked at him in confusion.

"Something as hideous as I could never touch something as beautiful as you."

The pain on his face was enough to drive tears to her eyes, and she inhaled sharply. She opened her mouth to respond, but then there was a call from behind them.

"There y' are!" It was Ria at the top of the stairs, stumbling drunkenly forwards. "I can' get the buckles." She gestured to the straps on her leather armour. "Njada won' help."

She sighed in exasperation, and was about to tell Ria to piss off, but Talenok stood up abruptly. He muttered something that sounded vaguely like 'goodnight' and then he disappeared down the stairs.

She felt a sense of distress overcome her, but grudgingly raised and helped Ria off with her armour.

"Alright, to bed with you, Shield-Sister." She helped Ria down the stairs and into the whelps room. Once the girl was settled in her bed, she looked across to where Talenok slept. He lay facing the wall.

She considered going to him, but decided against it and retreated to her own bed.

**VIII.**

He avoided her for days after their last encounter and she wasn't sure whether to be offended by it, or worried.

It took Farkas assigning them both to work a job clearing some bandits out of a nearby barrow before he would go anywhere near her. They set out at dawn, with Talenok refusing to even look at her.

After a while of walking, she attempted to talk to him. "Have I offended you?"

He looked at her, bewildered. "Of course not."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't."

"Don't lie to me." She snapped with much more force than she had intended.

Talenok hunched his shoulders and stared hard at the ground. "You do not understand." He told her, anger clear in his voice. Whether it was directed at her or towards himself, she wasn't sure.

"So help me!" She insisted, but the only response she received was a violent shake of his head. She set her jaw.

Despite her best efforts, he would not speak again. Another hour passed, and her thoughts were beginning to drive her mad with confusion and targetless anger.

"Enough of this." She pulled up short and took her pack off, settling it on the side of the road next to a tree. "Come here." He must have caught the demanding tone of her voice, as he didn't argue and simply did as she said. "Look at me."

He forced his eyes to hers.

"You are  _not_  hideous."

No hesitation: "I am."

"How could you even think that?" She said sternly. When she saw the confounded look on his face, her tone softened. "Can't you see, Talenok?" She reached out and took one of his hands in hers.

"I am not- "

"I swear, by the Nine, if you tell me you are not worthy I will...I'll…" She wasn't exactly sure what she would do, and so the sentence died off as an empty threat. "Oh, forsake it." She closed the distance between them and gripped his shoulders, pushing herself up on her toes to plant a full kiss on his lips.

Talenok stiffened under her touch, and she found herself holding there, lips against his, silently begging him to kiss her back. After a terrifying moment, he conceded and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her back timidly.

Immediately, her entire body came to life. His touch gave her courage, and her entire being sung in time with her quickened heart. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer still. When they broke apart, she found his eyes and held them.

"Straja -"

"Be quiet." She commanded, and kissed him again. She could feel his entire body trembling against her, and as she felt his arousal swell in his breeches against her stomach, she pushed herself tighter against him. Talenok groaned appreciatively into her mouth, hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Now at the same height, she ran her fingers through his hair.

He pressed her back against the tree, kissing down her neck, his tusks scratching lightly against her sensitive skin and sending tingling shivers down her spine. Talenok thrust his hips up against her, and she felt his hardness against her bottom. She gasped at the feeling, dragging her nails across his scalp.

When she looked at him, his face was clouded by warm desire and she knew it was an expression she mirrored. She was suddenly aware of the fact that far too much clothing lay between them and that she didn't care if he took her in the middle of the road, as long as he did it.

She tugged at his breastplate as he crushed his lips to hers again, signaling she wanted it gone. Talenok rested her on her feet again, and she reached for a buckle.

That was when they heard the snarling behind them.

She looked around him, and saw three wolves closing in behind. "Fuck." She breathed, immediately reaching for her sword and slicing at one as it lunged for Talenok's back. She caught it across the stomach, and it fell with a whimper, its guts spilling free.

Talenok drew his swords and took care of the remaining two. As the wolves lay dead before them, he dropped his weapons and sunk to his knees beside them, whispering words she didn't understand. He ran his hands over the fallen animals, and the sadness radiating from him was overwhelming.

She sheathed her sword and came beside him, resting her hand on his head as he leaned forwards.

"Because of the dream?" She asked quietly.

Talenok nodded mutely, unable to express all of the emotions he was experiencing. After awhile, they moved the wolves to the side of the road and continued on their way without further words.

**IX.**

That night, exhausted from their day of killing, they decided to stay the night at the nearest inn rather than trek all the way back to Jorrvaskr.

Although Talenok had tried to insist a room with two beds, there were none available, much to his dismay. She tried not to take it personally, considering they had just had a rough, albeit successful day. Her muscles sang angrily with the death blows she had delivered the bandits.

Once they were inside the room, she immediately started to strip away her armour without another thought towards it.

When she was down to her tunic and leather leggings, she stopped and turned to look at him. He stood facing the wall, his chest bare and heaving with each breath. His muscles rippled as he stretched, carefully stowing his armour on a chair.

He must have felt her eyes on him, because he turned his head to her, eyes widening when he saw the expression of appreciation on her face. She felt his eyes sweep her body as well and she stepped towards him.

His closeness brought the familiar burn back to her, and she hesitantly reached out, pressing her hands against his stomach. He was truly enormous, a good two and a half feet taller. With each nervous breath he took, his muscles contracted, and his eyes slid shut as she ran her fingers up his chest, resting just below his shoulders.

When the movement stopped, he opened his eyes again, and she smiled at him. He leaned down towards her, raising a hand to weave into the hair at the back of her head. As their lips touched, she was again overwhelmed by how carefully he handled her.

She kissed him back, slowly, savouring, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. His pupils had dilated, quite striking against the paleness of the rest of his eye. His hand at her head drew her closer against him, and she was flush against his body.

Talenok's free hand came to rest at her hip, strong and warm, even through her top. As she brushed her fingers down over his tense thigh muscles, he winced. She pulled back, fingers having touched on something sticky. Her hand was stained red.

She pulled away from him immediately, checking his leg and seeing a long gash there. She gasped, wondering wildly how she had not noticed this before now.

"You're wounded."

Talenok let out a breath, releasing her hips. She gave him a stern look, and gestured for him to rest on the bed. She pulled down his breeches, leaving him in nothing but his small clothes. Her breath caught as she took him in, but she pushed her desire aside for the moment.

He lay on his good side, giving her full access to the wound. She took a pitcher of water from the table and ripped strips of cloth from her spare tunic as rags and bandage. When it was clean, it did not look as bad as it had before. She wrapped it tightly and tied it off, knowing that that was where her knowledge of healing ended.

"You should have told me." She scolded, coming to sit on the bed beside him. She lifted her legs, hugging them to her chest and watching him over her knees.

He looked down and away, shifting so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard.

"Thank you."

From her position, she reached out to touch his hand, running her finger over the thick calluses and scars that marred it.

It came to her that she knew hardly anything of this man and suddenly a million questions came to her mind, but she pushed them back. Perhaps this was not the time. Her eyes explored him as her hand stilled, until her eyes came to rest on his small clothes

She reached out, brushing down his stomach and lower, lower until - he caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. He kissed her palm and then let her go, shaking his head.

"I cannot."

Her heart dropped into her gut and she withdrew her hand self-consciously.

"I understand." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You do?"

She shrugged. "I am not orsimer. Perhaps I could not fulfill your, uh...needs."

"No, that is not…" Talenok drifted off, shifting uncomfortably. "I am quite positive you could fulfill my needs, beyond all of my wildest expectations."

"Then, what?"

"I would go slow, if you would permit."

"Slow?"

He backtracked slightly. "If your interest in me is beyond an itch."

For a moment, she wasn't sure what he meant. "An itch?" And then it came to her. "Ah. I'm unsure of what you think of me, Talenok, but I do not seek to use you as some perverse tool. Some temporary fix for my lusts."

"I had scarcely hoped...I'm sure there are others better suited."

"I will decide that for myself." She struggled to keep her temper, knowing that truly he meant well in his own way.

"My words are showing the wrong story." He grunted and closed his eyes as if struggling with his own mind. "Let me begin again."

She waited in silence for him.

"You remember my dream?" When she nodded, he continued. "The white wolf in my dream, who turned into the woman. From the moment I saw her...I knew I must be near her. It is why I came to the Companions."

His eyes met hers, searching her expression but she wasn't sure what for.

"It was  _you_ , Straja. You are the white wolf."

Her eyes widened as she realised what that meant. She remembered him telling her of the dream, how he had said that it was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. How he had blushed and looked at her as he said it.

"I would move slowly as to not frighten the wolf away." Talenok's last words came as a whisper and she felt her breath leave her entirely.

She tried to speak, but choked on the words and realised in a rush that she was crying, tears falling down her cheeks in steady streams.

His expression was horrified, obviously drawing the wrong conclusion from her reaction. He moved to stand, but she reacted in a flash and held him in place, kissing him fiercely.

He relaxed in her grip and tentatively stroked her arm. She pulled back, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. Her fingers found his.

"We can move as slowly as you would like, but you will not frighten this wolf away."

"I should frighten you." He whispered.

"Stop, Talenok."

He shook his head and looked at her incredulously. "Just look at me, Straja!"

She took her time, smoothing back his dark hair, running her fingers across his lips and cheeks and ears.

"I am, Talenok. I have not looked away since first I saw you." She pressed her lips to his cheek, and felt his arms curl around her.

"Why?" His voice was small.

"You are a true warrior, with the most gentle soul I have ever known." She stroked his hair soothingly, feeling his hands twitch at her back. She kissed his brow.

"You would not think it, looking at me."

"No, you would not." She agreed, smiling at him and relishing the sight of his hesitant smile in return.

She did not push him that night, instead she was simply content to sleep with his arms around her and his breath in her hair.

**X.**

When she awoke, she found herself alone in the bed. She sat up, finding Talenok sitting in a chair, staring hard at the wall with a look of utter despair on his face.

"Talenok."

He looked at her, and his eyes were sad.

"Do you still doubt?" She asked. He couldn't look at her, and turned his face back to the wall, swallowing hard.

"I want what is best for you."

She got up slowly, pushing her tangled hair back over her shoulders.

"Look at me." She commanded. His eyes turned to her.

With a deliberate slowness, she pushed her small clothes down over her thighs, letting them slide to the floor. Next, she grabbed the hem of her tunic and pulled it over her head, baring her full naked body to him.

He twitched in the chair, eyes locked to her as she walked towards him. He had put back on his leather breeches. She straddled him in the chair, raising his chin gently to kiss her. He didn't move to touch her, but kissed her back. His breath came in pants, and as she massaged at his scalp and ears, he groaned.

Encouraged, she ran her nails down his chest, hard enough to leave faint lines. "Touch me." She commanded, and his hands moved to her back, fingers exploring her before they moved to her front, palms pressing against her breasts. When she moaned, she could feel his hardness against her womanhood and rolled her hips against him.

He gasped, fingers moving to dig into her hips as she moved again and again. The sensation drove her wild, and she nipped at his neck to silence herself.

After a moment, she reached down between them, untying the laces that held his trousers shut. When they were undone, Talenok was able to inch them far enough down that his length sprung free.

He was sizeable and she found herself aching at the thought of him inside of her. She wasted no time, giving him only a couple of strokes with her hand before she positioned him at her entrance and sat down onto him. She whimpered at the fullness of him within her, and rocked her hips experimentally.

Talenok let out a breath, mouth falling open and eyes squeezed shut. "Look at me." She breathed, using his shoulders for support as she rode him. His eyes snapped open, and she moved again, causing them both to moan.

Eventually, she picked up her pace until they were both moving with it, him grabbing her buttocks and guiding her up and down. All she was aware of in the world was him and his body and the pleasure he was giving her as she drew closer and closer to the mountain inside her he was climbing. When she reached the peak, white exploded behind her eyes and she collapsed against him, heaving. Talenok pounded up into her vigorously, until he too was at the top. He spent himself inside her with her name on his lips.

They sat like that for awhile, him still buried deep inside her, with her head on his shoulder, hair draped across his chest.

"There is no doubt for me." She murmured after awhile, and he rumbled his agreement, pressing slow kisses along her neck and chest.

"The white wolf does not seem frightened." He remarked shyly.

"No, she does not." When he chuckled against her throat, she knew that she had wiped away both of their doubts.

* * *

 


	2. Whelp

**Pairing: Vilkas/Male OC Nord**

* * *

**Whelp**

* * *

Vilkas was not used to people taking an interest in him. With a brother as charismatic and friendly as Farkas, it was easy to overlook his rigid, emotionless brother.

So when the new whelp arrived at Jorrvaskr and almost immediately tried to befriend him, Vilkas was more than a little confused.

The whelp, Nolen, was the blondest Nord he'd ever seen. His hair, brows, and lashes were like ghosts, only visible when caught just so in the light. The effect made him look deceptively boyish and wide-eyed. He was young and bold and had a way with the women that set them giggling and blushing at his words.

For all these reasons, Vilkas hated him.

Nolen started to follow him about the place, asking a million different questions that Vilkas didn't care to answer. How long had Vilkas been there? Which of the twins were eldest? Does he favour a higher grip on his sword's hilt, or closer to the pommel? Had he ever killed a vampire? Was it true there were giant feral wolves sighted in the area?

"The only feral wolf is your tongue, whelp. Stop it howling before I silence it." He snarled at him. Nolen had only stopped for a beat before punching him playfully in the shoulder and laughing.

"You have a twisted sense of humour, Brother!"

Vilkas could only grunt and walk away. Farkas caught up with him.

"You've got yourself an admirer." He commented with mock seriousness.

"I don't know what he wants of me."

"A friend, so I would imagine. You could use more of those."

"Not him." And then the discussion was over.

It wasn't until their first job together that Vilkas gained any sort of respect for Nolen. He expected him to be chattering the whole way along, but he was surprisingly quiet. Vilkas even thought to ask him if he'd lost his tongue, but then thought better of it.

They were sent to clear a cave of bears and there were many more than had been expected - five to the two that Aela had told them.

They took the first by surprise and the second by force, charging together at it. Vilkas found that they worked well together, taking subtle physical cues to ensure they worked as one and kept out of each others way.

When the next two came, they separated and each took one. Nolen seemed to have some trouble with his own, and so Vilkas tore his blade from the fallen bear's gut and moved to help him.

That was when the fifth bear appeared. It lunged at Vilkas, claws meeting their target of his back and easily cutting through his leather armour. Vilkas cried out and fell forwards, pain screaming throughout his entire body.

He rolled to the side desperately, but once his back hit the floor, his agony doubled. The bear reared, meaning to drop its paws on his chest. Vilkas struggled for his sword, but his fingers were only able to brush the pommel.

Vilkas looked up into the angry eyes of the beast, knowing now that this would be his final moment, here in the dirt, swordless. Killed by a bear rather than by a great warrior on a battlefield - the honourable death he had always hoped for.

As the bear began to fall forwards, Vilkas closed his eyes. There was the sick sound of blade cutting through flesh and bone, and then the bear's weight crushed on him. It fell still, not tearing with teeth or claws like Vilkas had imagined. Its foul stench engulfed him, like rotting fish and blood.

Vilkas heard someone grunt and then the bear was heaved off of him. Nolen knelt, settling his blood-soaked blade on the ground.

"Are you well?" He asked, reaching out to take Vilkas' shoulders and look him over.

Vilkas looked up into the cerulean eyes, wondering at the concern he saw there.

"My back." He managed to croak and Nolen rolled him on to his side. His movements were deft as he unbuckled the ruined armour and cast it aside.

"This is more than I can manage." He said and stood to sheath his sword. "I will carry you."

"You cannot." Vilkas protested.

"I must." He replied. He crouched and with a surprising strength, took hold of Vilkas and hoisted him over his shoulder. Nolen stumbled under the pressure for a few paces and then mustered himself and started forwards.

Each step taken jolted spikes of pain through Vilkas' body. He was not sure how long it took them to return, as he passed in and out of consciousness the whole way.

The last thing he remembered was gripping something - a hand? - and a calm voice promising he would be okay.

When he awoke, he was propped on his side and could feel a tight bandage wrapped across his entire torso. It took him a moment to realize he was in his own room in Jorrvaskr. When he moved, his back spasmed in pain.

"Easy, brother." Farkas, who sat beside him, reached out to touch his shoulder.

"What happened?"

"A bear raked your back into shreds. Nolen carried you here and nearly killed himself in the process."

"I thought that was a dream."

"No such luck." He smiled. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been ripped in half."

"Aye, I don't doubt it." He chuckled.

"Nolen carried me?"

"We were surprised too, considering he was wounded himself. He wouldn't leave you side until Danica promised you were okay." He paused.

"It was sweet, really. You held his hand up until Danica dismissed him."

"I held  _his_  hand?"

"Aye." Farkas grinned. "I didn't realise you preferred his type. I suppose he is pretty enough, in his own way."

"What? I do not!" Vilkas growled at him.

"It matters not to me." Farkas winked and then reached out to pat Vilkas' hand. "Sleep again, Brother."

**xxxxx**

Soft voices woke him, but Vilkas remained silent, eyes closed, listening.

"I won't mention it." Aela was saying. He heard someone sniff, as if they were crying. "You did more than anyone could have asked."

There was silence for a moment and then Aela spoke again.

"You should just tell him."

"He would sooner kill me."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Silence again, a shuffling of feet.

"I have to go." Aela said and her footsteps echoed as she left the room.

Someone drew near him and brushed some hair from his brow. Their fingers lingered on his cheek and Vilkas could not remember the last time someone had been so tender with him. The touch was gone too soon.

When Vilkas opened his eyes, he was alone.

**xxxxx**

His recovery was slow. His back had been badly torn and he would forever have deep scars. To begin with, if he moved too much or too quickly, the wounds would split open again and the pain would be refreshed.

The next time he saw Nolen, they were both bashful.

"I owe you my life."

Nolen shrugged, grinning. "Never thought you'd say that, eh?"

Even Vilkas smirked at that. "No." He admitted.

"Well, you can buy me a drink sometime." Nolen touched Vilkas' shoulder and he did not pull away. Their eyes met for a moment and he saw something there he didn't recognise. Something that made his face feel too hot. He remembered the words like a dream.  _You should just tell him._

And then Nolen was gone and Vilkas was left with his confusion.

**xxxxx**

The night after Vilkas' first day back on the job, himself, Farkas, Ria, Aela, Nolen, and Athis all sat in The Bannered Mare, laughing over brimming pints of ale.

Vilkas did more listening than talking, but he was content with that. Throughout the night, he oddly found his eyes kept drifting to Nolen.

The other man looked back, fleetingly, but his focus was on the others.

Eventually, Farkas, Aela, and Ria left to go back to Jorrvaskr. Soon after, Nolen stood and excused himself. Vilkas watched him, only half listening to Athis blather on about some treasure he'd found in a cave.

He saw Nolen speaking with the bard in the corner, watched the way he brushed the man's arm and leaned towards him as he spoke.

Vilkas felt himself twitch angrily. But why was he angry?

As he continued to watch, the bard whispered something in Nolen's ear. He laughed and the two turned to walk up the steps to the guest rooms. On the way, the bard reached out and grabbed at Nolen's buttocks, grinning cheekily. Nolen swatted him away and they disappeared beyond Vilkas' view.

Vilkas felt himself turn to steel and he stood up, abandoning his ale and Athis.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll see you later." Vilkas replied, waving him off dismissively. He headed straight for the stairs.

A sort of rage found itself in him and he repeated the words over and over.  _You should just tell him._  The hand on his cheek.  _You should just tell him._

Upstairs, he flung open the door to one of the guest rooms. It was empty. He growled and then flung open the next. His breath caught.

Nolen and the bard stood in the centre of the room, both shirtless. The bard kissed Nolen's neck and chest, and Nolen had his hands fisted in the bard's hair, moaning as the bard palmed the bulge in his trousers.

Vilkas' mouth fell open and he cursed his body as his trousers began to rapidly feel too tight. He was aroused by the sight before him, much to his dismay.

It was the bard who noticed him first. "What are you doing?!" He shouted. When Nolen noticed Vilkas too, he looked terrified and stepped away quickly.

"Vilkas?" He asked softly.

"Get out." Vilkas turned to roar at the bard.

"Excuse me?" The bard narrowed his eyes.

"Out!" Vilkas took a predatory step towards him. The bard looked at Nolen, but when he made no move to stand up for him, he instead gathered his shirt and hurried out.

Vilkas turned, closing the door slowly and keeping his back to Nolen. His heart was jumping in his chest, echoing in his ears.

"Vilkas?" Nolen asked tentatively.

He turned around and in three steps took Nolen and rammed him against the wall.

Nolen didn't fight back, his eyes just watched Vilkas. Vilkas leaned forwards and pressed a hard kiss against Nolen's mouth, withdrawing just as quickly as he had moved.

After a moment of staring hard at each other, Nolen tried to kiss him again but Vilkas moved his head aside, tightening his grip.

Nolen's hands ran up Vilkas' armour, working the buckles open slowly, as if daring Vilkas to stop him.

Vilkas did not. Eventually, he kissed Nolen again, this time lingering a moment longer.

He was shaking as he pushed Nolen's hands away and finished with the buckles himself. He let the armour fall to the floor and then pulled off his tunic. They both stood bare chested.

Their mouths collided again, this time with so much force that their teeth jolted painfully together. Nolen shoved at Vilkas so he stumbled back a few steps. They glared at each other.

Vilkas charged at him again, pushing him back against the wall and pinning him there with his forearm pressed against Nolen's throat.

Roughly, he grabbed the bulge in Nolen's pants, rubbing his hand up and down. Nolen moaned, and ripped Vilkas' arm away from his throat so that he could kiss him again.

Nolen grabbed at Vilkas until they both massaged each other, grunting as they each strained against their pants.

Vilkas bit down on Nolen's lip hard enough to draw blood, sucking on it until his mouth was full of the taste of copper and ale.

Nolen growled, reaching to undo Vilkas' trousers. Instead, Vilkas took a fist full of his golden hair and spun him around, pressing his hardness against Nolen's ass. He forced him to lean over the bed and ripped down his breeches.

Nolen braced himself on the bed, grinding his now bare buttocks into Vilkas.

Vilkas opened his trousers enough to pull out his length, and then massaged at Nolen's opening.

He had never done this before, but the younger man's moans spurred him on and so without much more warning, he buried himself within Nolen. Both of them cried out at the feeling and Vilkas pounded into him again.

Soon he picked up a relentless pace and Nolen reached back to grip himself, pumping his hand in time with Vilkas. The sound of skin slapping against skin drove him further, accompanied by the sounds of Nolen grunting and moaning, asking him to move faster, harder.

He leaned low over Nolen's back, grabbing at his hair and shoulders, running his nails down the pale flesh of his back and leaving angry red lines.

When he came, he cried out, body stinging and sweat dripping down him. Nolen finished shortly after, collapsing forward onto the bed.

Now Vilkas didn't know what to do. He pulled out and took a step back, hastily doing up his trousers again. What had just happened? He felt emotion and panic climbing inside him. He watched as his seed slowly leaked out of Nolen and down the back of his leg.

Vilkas backed up further, covering his mouth. Nolen cleaned off his hand and then turned to look at him. His expression was soft and Vilkas felt his chest tighten. Why was Nolen looking at him like he was a wounded animal that he didn't want to frighten away?

In a shot, Vilkas grabbed his tunic and armour and ran out the door, slamming it behind him. He pulled his tunic on while on the steps and tried to slow himself to a casual walk while he left the inn, armour tucked under his arm.

**xxxxx**

Nolen wouldn't look at Vilkas after their incident, which suited him just fine. Weeks passed, and Vilkas' heart turned sour. After awhile, he did realise that he might even miss Nolen's insistent presence. He told himself that he was being a fool.

One day he was walking past Aela's room when he heard someone crying and Aela's voice soft as she comforted them.

He peaked through a crack in the door and saw Nolen sitting beside her on the bed, body shaking as he cried. Aela had an arm around him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Vilkas has never been very well in touch with his feelings." She was saying.

"You didn't see the way he looked at me...Like I was revolting." Nolen covered his face, voice cracking on the last word he spoke.

Aela sighed. "I'm sure it wasn't you. He did follow you, after all. It isn't as if you forced him."

"He has hated me since the start." He said bitterly. Vilkas flinched, despite himself.

Nolen looked towards the door, and as he did, Vilkas stepped back quickly, bumping into a wash basin.

Vilkas froze. Aela flung open the door and stared at him.

"Vilkas!" She barked and he shook his head.

"Forgive me - I…" He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked past her to Nolen, who was hastily wiping tears from his cheeks. This was his doing, this pain. It wasn't Nolen. It was  _him_.

"Could I speak with you?"

Aela's eyes narrowed. "I think you've done enough." She snapped.

"No, Aela. Its alright." Nolen told her. She looked over her shoulder at him and he nodded.

She pointed accusingly at Vilkas, silently warning him. Vilkas held up his hands in submission and she stormed past him.

Vilkas slowly walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He cleared his throat and turned to look at Nolen, who had composed himself considerably.

"I…" Vilkas grunted and took his hair in his fists, tugging at it in frustration. Nolen watched him carefully as he collected his thoughts. He dropped his hands to his side and stared at the floor. "I am sorry for what happened."

"I had gathered that, from your dramatic exit." Nolen said stiffly.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Vilkas felt his voice raise and he cut himself off and forced himself to calm down again.

"I have been a regret before, but I did not wish to be one of yours."

Vilkas looked at him, eyes wide. "You are not a regret."

"You have a strange way of showing that."

He nodded, and came to sit on the bed beside Nolen. He kept his distance, not wanting to frighten him by being too close. "As Aela said, I am not good with feelings."

After a moment of silence, he looked up. "I had never done that before."

Nolen didn't try to hide his shock. "Not ever?"

"Well...with women, yes. Not with...not with a man."

"Oh."

"I did not know that I felt that way...that I could feel that way." Vilkas glanced up at Nolen, who was watching him with a concerned expression. "I am sorry that I left like I did. I was frightened." It hurt him to admit that, and the words came out as a choked whisper.

"And you regret it?"

"No." He stared at his hands. "I have thought on it often. I have no regret, except the way it ended."

"What does that mean?"

"I hardly know myself."

Nolen reached out, placing a hand on Vilkas' knee. Vilkas stared at the hand for awhile, smaller than his own but with an equal amount of scars. He placed one of his own over the hand, curling his fingers around it.

"Vilkas." He looked up, meeting the searching look in Nolen's eyes. "I do not expect anything from you."

Vilkas nodded. "I know." He shifted, lifting Nolen's hand and holding it in both of his. Nolen moved closer, turning at a slight angle so he faced Vilkas.

"Do you feel anything for me?"

Vilkas shrugged. "I know that I have been sad without you." He glanced up, shyly. "And my life has been quiet without your constant questioning."

Nolen grinned at him and chuckled. He leaned forwards and rested his forehead on Vilkas' shoulder. Vilkas freed one of his hands to stroke Nolen's hair, feeling himself settle at being so close to him again. It was as if he had just released a weight he hadn't know he carried.

They sat like this for awhile, Nolen resting against him, playing with the hand that held his. Vilkas, mustering his courage and lifted Nolen's chin and pressed a slow kiss to his lips.

Nolen responded warmly, returning the kiss and smiling as they pulled apart.

"I am sorry I left you." Vilkas spoke softly.

"As long as you don't do it again." They kissed again, and Vilkas knew that he would be stuck with the whelp now.

"I won't."

 


	3. Lavender and Honey

**Pairing: Vex/Female OC**

**Trigger Warning! This story contains sexual abuse. If this is a sensitive topic for you, you may not want to read any further.**

* * *

**Lavender and Honey**

* * *

_If he touches me now I will burn away and crumble to ash._

I held my ground, feet planted. "I mean it, I'm not doing this again."

He grinned wickedly, reaching out to me. I stepped back, not able to withstand his teasing just then. He knew I wanted more than this. More than whispers in the dark and recklessly quick encounters in shadowed corners and against walls.

"But I'm cold." He complained, reaching for me again. This time his arms circled my waist and he pressed me against him. I felt suffocated in his grasp and - for the first time - cheap. Is that all I was to him? A bit of warmth on a cold night?

"Let me go." I said sternly, pushing against him as he tried to kiss me.

He chuckled, thinking it was a game. It wasn't - not this time.

"Mercer." I shoved at him again, but he held me more tightly until it hurt. "Stop!"

"Come on now, little one." He breathed against my cheek and it smelled of stale mead and smoke. He kissed me, but I turned away again.

When he tried again, I bit his lip and not in a pleasant way. He gasped and looked at me with death in his eyes, raising a hand to touch his lip. It came away bloody and he spit over my shoulder.

"You'll pay for that, bitch." He turned so my back was against the cold, damp wall and pushed his hand down my trousers, ripping them down to my knees. I cringed and pushed against him again.

"Get off of me!" I clamped my legs shut against his searching hand. He shoved his knee between them and then pulled open his trousers.

"Be quiet." He hissed, covering my mouth. I bit the flesh of his palm and he swore, slapping me hard enough to whip my head to the side. I felt tears well in my eyes.

I knew sleeping with him had been a bad idea, but it had seemed so good at the start. Forbidden and dangerous and exciting. The first time he had been gentle. Soft. Not this monster who showed its face now.

He closed a hand around my throat and I grabbed at his hands, trying to claw him off. His nails dug into my thigh as he wrenched my leg up and thrust himself inside me. My body wasn't ready for him and I felt something tear inside of me, making his actions hurt all the more.

I screamed, but no noise was able to force its way past his grip. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I tried to take my mind somewhere else, but it hurt so much that I was kept prisoner in the present.

When he finished, he threw me to the ground and closed his trousers. He smoothed back his hair and took his time to slow his breath and take on a composed look again. Before he left, he gave me a sharp kick in the ribs for good measure. I cried out and lay on the cold ground in a ball, sobbing miserably, trousers still around my knees.

After I grew still and cold, I felt a soft touch on my shoulder. I flinched away, sitting up too quickly. My vision blackened as the blood rushed to my head. The tastes of grit and blood were in my mouth and my body ached.

It wasn't him, though. In Mercer's place stood Vex. Her normally hard, cynical express was soft. She reached out again, wiping blood from my lip.

"Mercer?" She asked sadly. I nodded, quickly struggling to pull my trousers back up and keep the illusion I had some ounce of dignity left.

When Vex didn't say anything more, I babbled nervously to fill the silence.

"He started out okay. He was kind. But lately he has been more...rough. I was trying to put an end to it." I covered my mouth, feeling his phantom hands gripping my leg.

She nodded her understanding and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I had never seen her this way.

"You are not the first." She replied sadly. "Are you hurt?" She tucked some hair behind my ear so that she could get a good look at my face.

"Not much. Just…" I motioned to my nethers and Vex nodded again. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up."

She wrapped an arm around me and I leaned against her gratefully. She took me to her room and got me to sit on the bed. Vex fumbled around for a clean rag and filled her basin with water.

She set to work dabbing at my lip. It must have been split from Mercer's slap.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked softly. Vex had not made it a secret she resented me, especially after Golden Glow.

"I am not so cold as I seem." She responded and a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

When the rag came back clean, Vex set the basin on the bed beside me. "Clean yourself." She turned to face the wall, taking off her black Thieves Guild jacket and placing it on a chair. Underneath she wore a sleeveless cotton shirt.

I pulled down my pants and carefully wiped at myself. I was bleeding a little and I winced, fresh horror bubbling in my chest. By the time I finished, I was crying again.

Vex disposed of the water and rag and came to sit beside me. She rested a hand on my arm.

"You're welcome to stay here tonight."

I nodded, wiping tears from my cheeks. "Thank you."

After a moment, I looked up at her and watched the way the candlelight flickered across her eyes. She reached out, gently stroking my cheek and placing a kiss on my brow.

"I'll kill him for this." She vowed with a quiet determination and my hand pressed over hers.

We watched each other for a small eternity and then, entirely unsure what was driving me, I leaned in and kissed her.

She kissed me back, but it was chaste. I could feel her eyes searching my face, but I chose to stare at my lap. I felt her shift closer and then we were kissing again. This time it lasted longer and her hand fit itself into the curve of my waist.

I placed a hand on either side of her neck and when our lips met, I felt her smile. Had I ever even seen her smile before?

The embrace deepened and I felt the need to be closer to her, to see how soft her skin was beneath her shirt. I crawled to straddle her, my nethers protesting a little at the stretch.

She wrapped her arms around my waist, holding me in place as we kissed again and again, slow and warm and careful. I pushed my hands up the back of her shirt, tracing the line of her spine up and down. She smelled of lavender and tasted of honey.

When we both became too urgent, she stopped me. My body was tingling all over and I could feel the dampness welling between my legs. Kissing Vex was the exact opposite of Mercer. There was nothing forceful with her, nothing smelling of sweat or grime. Her skin was like velvet and she was patient and tender with her touches.

"Tonight is not the night." Vex's words broke me out of the haze I was in, and I blinked at her, remembering why I was here and what had just happened.

She kissed my cheeks and then lifted me off of her with surprising strength. I nodded, knowing that I did not want to go any further. Not tonight. Not with the memory of Mercer still burning inside of me.

Vex blew out the candle and we crawled under her furs. She brushed her lips against mine and I sighed into her mouth, feeling her fingers resting lightly on my hip, just under the hem of my shirt.

"Soon, though?" I murmured sleepily, letting her turn me over and pull my back flush against her chest.

She chuckled into my hair, hand splayed on my stomach. I drew circles on her arm with my finger until - safe and content - I fell asleep.

 


	4. Wrestling

**Pairing: Female OC Dunmer/Brynjolf**

* * *

**Wrestling**

* * *

Elora was a better thief than Brynjolf could have ever hoped to find. She made his marketplace trick seem like child's play, relocating Madesi's ring as if it had never been his to begin with.

The Guild had been lucky to gain such an experienced member and her skill was beyond proven when she made easy work of the Goldenglow job. Even Vex had admitted she hadn't messed it up, which was high praise from the chilly blonde.

Mercer was thrilled as she completed job after successful job, and slowly the rest of the Guild began to warm to her as well.

One of which, was Brynjolf himself.

**xxxxx**

Too much mead and too much celebratory euphoria. A whisper hastily smeared against his ear.

"I'm  _drunk_."

Her giggle brushing down his neck, raising goosebumps in its wake.

Brynjolf chuckled, winding an arm around her waist as he helped her back into the Cistern. He told himself not to get any funny ideas, but even so he savoured the touch of her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck.

When he'd settled her in her bed, she had leaned up and kissed him goodnight as if it were the most normal thing to do. It was chaste and fleeting, but the burn of it seared against his lips.

He watched the candlelight flicker off of her shimmering dark Dunmer skin until she was asleep.

**xxxxx**

"Be careful, old man." Elora teased, watching as he tied his dagger at his side. "If you fall and can't get up, I won't be near enough to right you."

She knew full well their age difference was no more than ten years, yet she had taken to teasing him as if he approached old age.

Brynjolf snorted and shook his head. "I haven't fallen yet, lass."

"You're about due a tumble then." Elora had meant it innocently enough, but when she realised the other - more suggestive - way her words could be taken, she flushed.

He rose his brows at her, but then winked. "And you can help me with that, can you? If you're near enough?"

The redness on her cheeks multiplied and she laughed nervously. "You would be so lucky."

Brynjolf just grinned at her, and then ascended the ladder and disappeared into the world above.

**xxxxx**

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, how am I meant to help?" His voice was urgent and she could tell he was reaching the limits of his patience.

Elora bit her lip, rose-coloured eyes hard as stones as she glared at the floor.

Brynjolf sighed and tugged at his hair. "Lor."

"I just want her to like me." Her voice was small.

"This is about  _Vex_?"

She shrugged and looked beyond him, into the crackling fire. Brynjolf reached out and hesitantly took her hand.

"Vex hardly likes anyone. She has warmed to you more than you know."

Elora glanced up at him briefly, feeling completely childish for her concerns. His fingers squeezed hers reassuringly and she looked down at them. The colours of their skin were in stark contrast - his like moonstone and hers like sun-bleached ebony.

"She has?"

"Aye, now put these worries away. The Guild is a tight-knit bunch, but their affection for you grows by the day."

By the way he said it, Elora thought perhaps his true meaning was deeper than the words he said.

**xxxxx**

Elora sat with Grelka in The Bee and Barb, grinning at her over a mug of ale. An unexpected friendship had grown between the two of them and they were often found at the same table at the Inn, lost in conversation and giggling like tavern girls.

On this particular night, each of them was tired and simply content to sit in silence and drink. After a while, Grelka cleared her throat and Elora looked up at her.

"So...Brynjolf…"

"What of him?"

"Is there something between the two of you?"

Elora felt nervousness bubble in her stomach. Instinctually, she denied it. "Friendship, nothing more."

Neither of the women had noticed that the very same red-headed Nord had entered the inn and was standing a short distance away, frozen on the spot as he strained to hear what they were saying.

"So you wouldn't mind if I…"

"If you what?"

"Do I have to come out and say it?" She grumbled, turning red. "If I were to pursue him?"

Elora's heart leapt and she fought to keep her reaction down. Bryn felt so entirely unattainable, why shouldn't she encourage Grelka? She imagined the woman was a better match for him than she could ever be, with her frail thin body and small stature. Grelka was all curves and muscle, surely the type of woman Brynjolf sought out.

"Sure, of course. Why would I mind? You would make a good match."

Grelka smiled, her relief evident as she leaned back in her chair. There was a bang, and Elora looked up in time to see a shock of fiery hair disappear outside the door.

**xxxxx**

Brynjolf hadn't spoken to her for days and she was driving herself crazy with the uncertainty of what had provoked his evident anger towards her.

She was meant to leave for Solitude the following day and decided it was time to speak with him - this sense of dread was not something she wanted to carry with her into the capital. His silence had been torture.

Elora found him in the practise room, dagger-deep in one of the dummies.

"Brynjolf." She called to him, closing the door behind her so that they were alone.

He spun at the sound of her voice, a raw hostility in his eyes. Elora faltered, but then gathered herself and walked towards him.

"What?" He barked.

"You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy."

"Busy?" She echoed, crossing her arms. He looked beyond her, eyes fixed on Mara-only-knows-what - evidently anything but the Dunmer before him.

"Aye."

"Enough, Bryn. What's this about?"

He ignored her question and turned back to the dummy, pulling his dagger free and tucking it back into it's sheath. "Grelka cornered me in the market the other day." His voice was cool.

Elora swallowed nervously. "Oh?"

"She suggested that we find somewhere quiet together, in no uncertain terms." Brynjolf's eyes bore into her and she had to look away. "I tried to protest, and do you know what she said to me, Lor?" He didn't wait for her to respond and carried on.

"She said, 'It's okay, Elora told me she doesn't mind'."

Elora shrugged, stealing a look at him. "You make a good match."

"Is that right?"

"Weren't you?" Elora felt her voice weaken. "A good match, I mean."

"Weren't we just." He spat, laughing humorlessly.

"So you laid with her, then?" Inside, she was dying. She shouldn't have expected anything different. When a woman like Grelka offers herself, how could you refuse?

"What if I had? You've made it infinitely clear that you'd rather pass me off. That we are strictly friends. Or did I hear wrong, that night at the inn?"

So the red hair she'd seen retreating had been his. Elora stiffened. "What was I supposed to tell her, Bryn?"

He threw up his hands. "You tell me, Lor!"

"We both know that I'm just a foolish girl with stars in her eyes. Grelka is a woman. I don't disillusion myself by thinking that we could ever…" Her voice dropped off without her consent. "Besides, the deed is done now."

"Damn it, girl!" Brynjolf growled at her. "If that is what you think, then you are a foolish girl and there is nothing else for us to say to each other."

He glared at her, eyes daring her to speak. To tell him he was wrong. To yell at him. To stand up for herself.

When she did none of these things, he swore and stormed past her. He stopped halfway and spoke without looking back. "I didn't lie with Grelka, but now I might just take her up on her offer."

With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

**xxxxx**

The job in Solitude went sour. She'd been caught in the act by the city guards, who promptly jailed her.

It took some persuasion and some brilliant acting on her part, but she was able to weave an emotional tale of her poor dying mother and the lack of food on their table. She swore it was her first and last time thieving, even going as far to break down in fake sobs.

Seeing as they had caught her before she'd even grabbed her prize, they truly didn't have much evidence to go by. After nearly a week, they released her, swearing that it would mean trouble if they ever saw her in Solitude again.

The whole experience had been terrifying for Elora. She had never been caught before, especially not by guards. She had never been as relieved to step foot in the Flagon as she was on the day of her return.

The others rushed to her, having assumed the worst when she hadn't returned for a full week. It seemed that her absence and their worry had warmed them all the more to her, and that alone nearly made the whole ordeal worth it.

The feeling was quickly dampened, however, when Brynjolf refused to even acknowledge her return. She knew then that she had ruined things between them - if there had even been anything to begin with.

**xxxxx**

One night they formed a makeshift fighting ring in the centre of the Cistern, everyone gathered around to cheer on the fights. They told Elora they did this on a regular basis and that they had a running pool of champions. She laughed, but agreed to join in. None of them had seen her in combat; all of her jobs thus far had been solo. She fully expected them to underestimate her.

"Go on then." Delvin said, pushing her towards the centre of the ring. The rest of the guild was already chanting around her. "Who is going to take on our little Dunmer runt?"

Elora shot him a look and he put up his hands in submission. "You're the smallest of us, Lor, no offense meant." He winked at her and she couldn't help but smile back.

She looked around the ring, waiting for someone to step up. There was a cry as someone threw Rune forward, almost sending him tumbling to the ground. There were cheers of encouragement as he righted himself, readying his fists.

"C'mon Rune!" Several of them cheered.

Elora assumed the position as well, crouching and angling herself towards him, fists up. They circled each other slowly. Rune was young, silly. She knew he would try and strike first, that he would think this would be easy for him.

She was right - after a moment of sizing her up and prancing forward and back, testing - he jolted forwards, aiming a blow at the side of her face. Lor danced on one foot to the side, bending low and sweeping her free foot in an arch, taking his legs out from under him. He fell flat on his back with a grunt, and the guild cried with laughter.

"Come on, Rune." She said, teasing. She backed up a few steps, noticing Brynjolf for the first time near the back, arms crossed and face a mask. While she was distracted, she didn't notice Rune had gotten up behind her and gave a swift punch to her side.

She staggered, feeling the wind knocked from her, recovering to block a second punch and giving two well aimed blows herself. Rune dodged them, spinning away, but not quickly enough to miss her kick to his lower back. He nearly lost his balance again, but righted himself in time to block another of her punches.

They carried on like this for awhile - both doing little damage. Finally, with a well aimed punch to the gut, Rune was on the ground, belly down, arm twisted behind his back until bellowed out - "I yield!".

Elora stood up, offering her hand to Rune who took the help and clapped her on the back. "You got lucky this time - I was pretty tired. Late job last night."

"Sure, sure. You'll get me next time." She laughed, feeling for the first time since arriving that maybe she did belong here.

Delvin quickly found another challenger for her, this time a Breton boy whose name she hadn't learned yet. It didn't take her long to fel him as well.

By this point, she could tell they were taking her more seriously. After a break to regain her stamina, they gave her a fight against Vipir. She knew he was the one to go to for pick-pocketing help, but had heard rumours of his fierce combat as well.

"If you beat Vipir, we'll pit you against our undefeated champion." Delvin told her conspiratorially.

"And who is that? Mercer?" She asked, whispering back.

He shook his head, grinning and stepping back into the crowd to watch. Elora turned, readying herself. Her fists hurt, knuckles bloody. She could feel bruises blossoming across her breast, stomach, and cheeks. In the morning, she would regret this.

Vipir was quick. He was subtle. Far more defensive than her previous opponents had been. His blows were mild - but he was quick enough that many of them landed.

She had just jumped, meaning to toss him to the ground, but instead he caught her by one leg. She lost her balance and tumbled to her back. The crowd had gone silent, watching in anticipation of what would happen.

"Finish her off Vipir!" She heard from them.

He closed in on her, meaning to pin her to the ground, but at the last minute she rolled to the side, jumping to her feet and as he crouched, she kicked him hard in the head, knocking him so far that he splashed into the pool outside the ring.

There was deafening silence that followed and Elora looked around nervously, afraid she had just done something seriously wrong. Vipir sputtered in the water and Sapphire jumped forward to help him. He waved her off, surfacing with a massive grin on his face.

Lor relaxed immediately, as did the rest of the room as they all burst into cheers. Delvin put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her close and giving her a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. She felt herself flush, and suddenly her eyes were drawn again to Brynjolf, who had moved closer. His mouth was drawn into a thin line, eyes on Delvin's arm around her shoulders.

Elora felt a chill roll down her spine and she freed herself from Delvin's grasp. He didn't seem to mind, as she knew his attentions were no more than friendly. She felt somewhat awkward and turned away, letting Thrynn shake her hand. She felt for the first time that perhaps this place  _could_  be a home to her.

"I challenge her now." The voice was distinct and abrupt, but with a note to it that made unknown parts of Elora tremble. The room was silent again as everyone turned to see Brynjolf walk to the centre of the ring. He stripped off his guild attire, leaving himself in his trousers and a thin white tunic.

Elora could see the muscles rippling beneath it, felt her eyes sting from the sight of him.

"A true challenge indeed." She heard Delvin say. She looked away from Brynjolf, wiping blood away from the split lip she hadn't known was there to begin with.

"Bryn is undefeated so far." Delvin told her. "But you've been on quite a roll."

Elora felt her limbs protest, but she nodded anyway and readied herself. She allowed herself to meet his fierce grey eyes, soaking in the bloody colour of his hair and faint scars on his face and neck. Elora felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

He returned her gaze with an equal thoroughness, an anger in him she didn't quite understand. The room fell silent as they both raised their fists and began the slow circle around the ring.

He was the first to move, twisting towards her unexpectedly and bringing his palm down roughly where her neck met her shoulder. She grunted in pain, spinning away and aiming a blow to his side. He brushed her fist away easily, but took a kick to the shin.

They continued - him getting a hit, her getting a hit - back and forth, back and forth. It felt as if there was no one else in the room but him. Muscle and sweat, storming eyes and a tight set jaw. They seemed an equal match - spinning, ducking, twisting almost as if the fighting styles were made for each other.

But she was tired, so tired. Blood was leaking from a cut near her hair line and from her lip, her hands were red and raw, shins and feet bruised from her kicks. She launched herself at him, knocking them both to the ground. She needed this to be over.

She felt his sweat soaked through his shirt as they crashed against stone, rolling back and forth for control. Elora came out on top, fighting to keep it that way, pressing her full weight onto his hips and knees to keep him down. She aimed a punch to the side of his face.

Brynjolf caught her fists, rolling them over so he was on top, pressing a leg on either side of her. One of his hands clamped her wrists above her head, his large fingers easily holding her still, despite her efforts to twist away. There was a moment where their eyes met. It felt like a jolt of lightning coursed between them in that moment.

But it passed. His other hand found a place pointing her leg in an odd angle, eliciting a cry of pain from her.

She found herself whimpering against her will, the pain in her leg making her head swim, black closing around her vision. Was she crying, or was it still just blood? She couldn't tell, she couldn't understand anything besides the burn of pain.

As suddenly as it had come, it stopped. Brynjolf looked down at her, stunned, for a moment before nearly flying off of her. Elora rolled to her side, wanting nothing more than to roll into a ball and weep, but she couldn't place why. Crying was not something she tolerated from herself.

She heard the echo of boots as someone ran out of the Cistern. The crowd was still silent, until she heard Delvin call out.

"Bryn!" She heard his footsteps following after the first set.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked to find Tonilia beside her. "Come on, Elora." She said, helping her to her feet. "Delvin shouldn't have pushed you into so many fights."

Elora should her head. "No, no I'm okay. Thank you." She took a few steps back, nodding. Delvin was back, but there was no sign of Brynjolf.

"You deserve some mead, girl." He said, gesturing her through to the Flagon. Rune and Thrynn came up on either side of her, excitedly chattering about the fights and how well she had done.

Elora gave a last look over her shoulder as everyone moved to the Flagon, but couldn't see any sign of Brynjolf.

**xxxxx**

After being treated to what mead she could stomach, Elora excused herself from the festivities. The warmth of the alcohol made her feel better and dulled the pain, but she knew she would need sleep, and plenty of it.

She found her bed at the side, next to Sapphire's, and crashed onto it, not bothering to kick off her boots or pull the blanket over herself. She laid still, listening to the water drip down the stone walls of the Cistern, taking comfort in their constance.

Elora dozed off, exhaustion finally overcoming her entirely.

**xxxxx**

She wasn't sure why, but she awoke suddenly in the night. She could still hear cheers from the Flagon, and so it seemed that most of the guild were still celebrating her victories. Elora groaned, wondering how long she had been asleep for. It couldn't have been long.

"I'm sorry." The voice came from beside her, and working on instinct, she whipped the dagger out from beneath her pillow, and in one fluid movement, had it pressed against the throat of the assailant.

"Easy lass, easy."

She recognized the voice. "Brynjolf." Elora lowered the blade, setting it to the side. "You should know better than to sneak up on me." She cleared her throat, forcing herself to relax and sit back on the bed.

He was sitting on Sapphire's bed, still in his trousers and the white tunic that was now stained with blood. Was it hers?

Brynjolf shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry." He said again. "I was carried away."

"I'm not sure what came over me. It isn't your doing, normally I would have been able to withstand that." Elora said quickly, rolling her stiff shoulders back.

"Still, you had already had enough fights to cripple a man. I should have known better."

"Its not your fault." She replied firmly, looking anywhere but at him. There was still an awkward energy between the two of them, after what she had said before her last assignment.

"Bryn, I-"

"I won't hurt you again."

"I - " Elora froze, unsure of his words. She cleared her throat again. "No re-match then?"

She had tried for humour, but could see he wasn't much in the mood for it.

"When you were back so late from Solitude, I -" He cut himself off. There was an emotion in his voice that she couldn't understand. "Well. You're back."

"Bryn." Now it was Brynjolf who couldn't look at her.

"You should get back to sleep." He stood up, turning to go. Elora watched his back in the dull flickering candle light.

"Could you help me?" She asked, not wanting him to go but unsure what to say to stop him.

He stopped and glanced back at her over his shoulder.

"My face must be all cut up, but I can't tell. Would you make sure there isn't anything too bad?"

Brynjolf nodded, gesturing for her to follow. She got up and walked after him. He got her to sit by the fire, digging around in a nearby chest for clean strips of cloth. He poured some water into a bowl and knelt before her, taking her chin and carefully examining her face.

"Is it bad?"

"Aye, but it won't scar." He replied, dipping a rag in water and using it to dab at and clean her face. She watched him silently. "Let me see your hands."

She presented them to him. Her knuckles were swollen and bloody, the skin cracked and purple. He set to work on cleaning them, delicately moving from finger to finger. When he hit the last one, his hand tightened on hers for a moment.

"Elora-"

She pulled her hand free, shaking her head. "I know I was foolish. I don't know what came over me, I won't meddle in your personal affairs again.." She shrugged, eyes fixed on her lap.

Brynjolf stood up, putting away the supplies. "I understand."

"Thank you."

He nodded mutely, turning and walking towards his bed.

Elora stood up as well, ready to go to her own bed. She had only taken a few steps when Brynjolf turned back to her. She stopped as well, watching his face change from rigid to anxious to determined. If she had blinked, she would have missed the transformation.

With his determined expression in tow, Brynjolf strode back, closing the distance between them and kissing her fiercely. Elora was so surprised that she went stiff. Her jaw was cupped by his hand, but that was the only place he touched her.

After a moment, her brain caught up and she returned the kiss with equal fervor, lifting a hand to press it against his own. He broke away, eyes darting back and forth across her face. His breath was shallow, chest billowing out with each intake.

"Divines, I have wanted to do that since the moment I saw you stumble through the city gates." He whispered, running his thumb across her cheek.

"And I have wanted you to." She whispered back. Elora kissed him again, and this time it was softer. She loved the taste of him, the feeling of his lips as they met hers. It became immediately clear to her how blind she had been - of course he felt for her what she felt for him. It had been written all over his actions since the start.

"Divines." He murmured again between them, finally wrapping his arms around her and drawing her closer. Elora let out a small moan, unable to help herself. It was so relieving to be in his arms, as if she had been holding her breath until this moment and now it was here, every kiss was like a breath she hadn't taken.

The noises she made spurred Brynjolf on, and he ground his hips against her so she could feel his length swell and strain against his trousers. Elora twined her fingers through his hair, roughly tugging his head closer, kissing him harder, pressing her hips against his hardness.

"Bryn," She murmured, pressing against him again. He grunted, burying his face against her neck to keep himself from being too loud.

"Stendarr's mercy, lass. What are you doing to me?"

She caught his eyes, a cheeky smile twitching on her lips. It was enough to drive him mad.

He hoisted her up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. Brynjolf carried her into the practise room, kicking the door shut behind them and nestling her down in hay.

Elora looked up at him, crouched between her legs, the shadows from the fireplace dancing across his features. She raised her fingers, running them over his face, outlining each feature. He looked down at her in awe, raw emotions brewing across his face like a storm.

"Oh Bryn." She murmured, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his chest. "Bryn," She kissed his forehead. "Bryn," His cheeks. His nose. "Hush now." She kissed his lips, and her tenderness sent him tipping over. Suddenly he felt the pressure of unshed tears behind his eyes.

Elora looked at him with a concerned attention, stroking his hair back from his face. "What is it, Bryn? What's wrong?"

He shook his head, not knowing how to say any of it. _I thought you were dead_  or  _I thought I had lost you_  or  _I'll never leave you again_. None of the words seemed right and so instead he kissed her again, pressing her back down, hands resting just under her guild jacket, running his fingers over the smooth curves of her bare sides.

Lor shrugged the jacket over her head, followed by her tunic until her breasts sat free. Bryn's eyes drank in the sight. He pulled his own tunic off, tossing it to the side and bending to wrap his lips around one of her ash-coloured nipples. His hand came up to work the free one, massaging it slowly and firmly until she was pushing her chest up, physically communicating her fierce need for him. He switched back and forth, until each nipple was raw and taut between his teeth.

She tightened her legs around his hips, taking him by surprise and flipping him over with much complaint from her tired body.

She straddled him, feeling his hardness between her legs and knowing that it was her doing. Her core was swollen and aching at the thought of it. She needed him to touch her, desperately.

Elora rubbed herself against his length, feeling him thicken in response and she masked both of their grunts in a kiss. She worked this way for a while, rubbing up and down until she couldn't withstand the distance between them their pants caused.

She straightened until she was able to remove her trousers, and then made short work of pulling down Brynjolf's. His length sprang free and she reached out, grasping it lightly and pumping her fist back and forth until her name was ringing in the air between them.

He stopped her before she had gone too far, instead pulling her up so they could kiss. He slipped his hand down between them, so he could reach the warmth between her legs. His fingers rubbed at her and she whimpered, hiding her face in his neck as she pressed herself eagerly against his hand.

Bryn worked his hand faster and faster until she was moaning and bucking her hips, fingers slick with the essence of her. He slowed himself and pulled his hand away, chuckling as she whined and tugged his hand back between her legs.

"Lie down, Lor." He instructed, freeing his hand. She did as he said, throbbing with waves of pure pleasure.

He ducked between her legs, lowering his mouth and letting his tongue take the place of his fingers. The taste of her was clover and gold. Elora took two fistfuls of his hair, silently urging him on, body twitching as the heat began to build inside of her. No one had ever touched her like this, not with their mouth, and her body was so thrilled that she knew she would not last long.

Brynjolf felt her come, her legs seizing around him, his name flung from her lips. He felt her muscles twitching as his tongue took a final lap of her wetness, savouring what he had drawn from her.

"By the Nine, Bryn. If you don't take me now I'm afraid I'll go mad." She kissed the dew from his lips, tasting her own familiar flavour mixed with his own. He leaned over her, rubbing himself up and down her entrance.

Elora loved the way he felt against her and she threw her head back, body still sensitive and ringing from her climax.

"You're sure, Lor?"

"Yes!" It was a plea, and all he needed to hear. He buried himself within her, crying out from the sensation. He rocked in and out, in and out. She rose her hips up to meet him, somehow finding the tender pain from her bruised body added even more to her arousal.

Elora was sure each stroke was bringing them both closer and closer to Sovngarde. When Bryn came, he collapsed against her breast, lungs straining for air and body trembling.

They stayed like that for awhile, Elora running her fingers through his hair, Bryn's breath hot on her chest.

When they had regained their breath, he kissed her softly again and she knew with that kiss that what they shared was deeper than anything she had known before.

He pulled out from her and laid beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. She laid her head on him, fingers swirling in the curls of red hair on his chest.

Bryn's lips found her forehead and his eyes slid closed, soaking in every sensation his body was singing to him.

Elora was afraid to speak and break the moment, even though she felt a hundred things she wanted to say.

"By Azura's light, I could never ask for more than this moment." Elora whispered finally, hoping desperately this had meant as much to Bryn as it had to her.

He lifted her chin so their eyes met, a smile raw on his lips. "Aye."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have ideas about how I could turn this pairing into a full blown story, which I might do in the future. Let me know if you would be interested in it! :D


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